Critical Role: Silent
by SETI-fan
Summary: Pike gets introspective in the wake of Scanlan's leaving. (Episode 84 and beyond)


**I'm kind of fascinated trying to fill in Pike's mindset during episodes where she was there-but-not-there (controlled as an AI by Matt), because it makes for an unusual reticence in her character. You know if Ashley had been there during Scanlan's departure, Pike would have been pretty vocal in that conversation. But she wasn't, and so we have an interesting moment of characterization.**

 **Also, I truly do love Scanlan! This piece is just written during a time that Pike was not too happy with him. I've got an idea for something from Scanlan's POV at some point, but I think Grog's up next for a fic after this.**

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It was rare for Pike to be near a fight and not rush in. It was an impulse that had gotten her into trouble more times than she'd kept track of, both on a mortal scale and in her duties to Sarenrae, but had saved lives a fair number of times as well. Maybe it was due to growing up with Grog, maybe just her own innate fire. Either way, staying quiet on the sidelines wasn't usually her nature.

But from the moment she saw that Scanlan's resurrection had taken on a different tone than any of them expected, she found herself silent. It wasn't that she was frightened by Scanlan's fury, startling as it was, or intimidated by the brutal tension that curdled between her friends—her family, as much as that word took on a slicing edge during the argument. There just were times when words couldn't even form. Couldn't dislodge from the hardened wall in your chest. And you became surrounded in silence, thick yet fragile.

What would she have said anyway? Tell him a lot of his emotion might be due to the disorientation and existential upheaval that being dragged back from death tended to cause? She certainly had firsthand knowledge of that—first in their group, as well—but she wasn't the only one anymore and it was a discredit to write off someone's emotions to a mere side effect of a ritual. No one had questioned her or made her feel crazy when her own brush with mortality drove her to sea, and she had no intention of making anyone else feel disregarded in the same situation.

Likewise, how could she criticize him for wanting to leave? She, who these days felt like she was away more than she was with her loved ones? Who had set the standard for being a part-time adventurer, declaring her own personal and spiritual needs on equal par to the good of the party and being given nothing but acceptance and understanding from her family, even though she knew it was a disappointment for them.

She had given Scanlan back his life—in addition to the fact that he was family—to be able to rebuild his relationship with is daughter. And that was exactly what he was planning to do. What could she say that would mean anything compared to that?

 _None of you ever loved me._

What could she say that wouldn't sound extra disingenuous to him coming from her?

So she said nothing. And after every heart in the room had been shredded or hardened—or quite likely, both—he had taken his things and gone.

And he had said nothing either.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, she supposed, replaying the entire scene in her head for days to come. While she had been spared the bulk of his venom, one phrase wove amongst her thoughts, insidious as a curse.

 _Weird, fucked up magic._

It shouldn't have stood out so much, compared to the infinitely more vicious things that were thrown back and forth in that argument. And yet, it dripped through her mind in every quiet moment.

 _Weird, fucked up magic._

Maybe it was so jarring because in all the years she had known Scanlan, he had never once spoken to her in an unflattering tone. After so long of glowing poetry and adoration, hearing her power described in such coarse terms was more rattling than if he had shouted in her face. It wasn't vanity; most of the time she had dreaded his lovesick displays of attention. But when the infatuation was stripped away, was this what he had truly been thinking underneath it all along?

 _Weird. Fucked up. Magic._

Was that really all it was to him? The golden light of Sarenrae, the power that she had worked and sacrificed and prayed for her entire life, denying herself a life of family and comfort and the easy satisfaction of violence in order to make herself a worthy conduit for her goddess's blessings? The gifts that had allowed her to ease her friends' pain and draw people back from death and let all of them still be here together to have this falling out? All those years of fighting and healing side-by-side, had he truly seen it as nothing more than another set of magic words to bend the natural world to their will, no different than half the monsters they had faced? Something he only tolerated because it was used to their advantage?

Because it was done by her?

(Even further back in her mind whispered the question if he was the only one in the party who felt like that.)

Well, if that final confrontation was truthful, he had apparently been keeping a lot of negative feelings silent himself over the past few years. Had he ever truly felt any of the emotions he proclaimed, not just to her, but to all of them? Were any of his smiles and laughs genuine, or just covering wounds he refused to show while resenting them for failing to notice?

Was that why he hated her healing power?

Fuck him. She could understand and she could regret and she could question what she could have done—what any of them could have done—to see this problem before it had built to such an explosive point, but at the end of the day, this wasn't entirely on them. He could have reached out. He could have let them in any time. Who among them hadn't been laid bare and vulnerable in front of the others more than they would have willingly divulged? It was part of being a family, as apparently fucked up as theirs was.

But family left. And Pike wasn't innocent on that front. She had died and left and come back on her own terms, leaving the others to handle her absence in ways they had probably hidden from her as well, unwilling to burden her with their pain or dwell on it during happier times.

And yet, there she found what separated her abandonments from Scanlan's. Every time she left, from the first time aboard the _Broken Howl_ to her more standard calls to Saranrae's service, she had made an effort to reduce the pain it caused the others. She soothed and reassured and made the most of her time with each of the others, always promising to return as soon as life allowed. Not lashed out cruelly at everyone who tried to love and support her.

Or ignored them so completely they were left wondering if they ever mattered to her at all.

All those years of endlessly pursuing and chatting up and keeping an eye on her, he had finally taken the hint at the worst possible time.

And once again, completely misread what she actually wanted. If she even knew herself.

But regardless of what was or wasn't or should have been, life went on. She fought and healed and came and went. She saved some lives, took others, and hoped she made the right calls every time. She served Sarenrae and took time with Vox Machina. She drank with Grog and made new memories with the others and they all made an effort to get to know each other better than perhaps they had before. And they tried to fill the hole in the team, or ignore it when it got too consuming.

And sometimes, at night, when the day had been long or lonely and the fond memories outweighed the bitterness, she put on the earring and found the voice to talk to Scanlan as she couldn't before.

But every time, she was just left with silence and questions and wounds that no amount of weird, fucked up magic could heal.


End file.
